


Leave Your Hat On

by doodledinmypants



Series: Uncaged [2]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Jigen tops Zenigata, M/M, Past Trauma Mention, Porn with Feelings, THEY DESERVE IT, Trauma Recovery, brief mention of sexual trauma and torture, includes cover art, jigen should really see a therapist, look I just want them to have something nice ok?, poor coping mechanisms, shooting guns is not therapy, some flowery prose, surprisingly soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28607631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodledinmypants/pseuds/doodledinmypants
Summary: A year after the events of Dogs Don't Wear Hats (not necessary to read before this), Jigen runs into Zenigata in a bar and they get to talking about shared trauma and how they're recovering. One thing leads to another.
Relationships: Jigen Daisuke/Zenigata Kouichi
Series: Uncaged [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082864
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Leave Your Hat On

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to Dogs Don’t Wear Hats. You can read this fic without reading that one (and if you are sensitive to description of sexual abuse and trauma, maybe consider skipping it), though events in DDWH do affect the characters in this story as well. Hopefully there is enough context here to read it as a stand-alone fic, though, or I haven’t done my job well enough.
> 
> If you were afraid to read DDWH, this fic is much softer, happier, and more hopeful. Also there is no explicit mention of the sexual trauma, though the implication exists. Jigen's more canine behavioral traits are pretty minor in this, though they may come up in other fics in this series.
> 
> As ever, shout out to the Lupin Discord for being a bunch of enablers. We all just live in Horny Jail forever.

  
The apartment Jigen sometimes shared with Lupin in Lyon was too small for Jigen that hot summer day. He was restless, pacing threadbare tracks in the rugs, filling the space with smoke. Something itched under his skin, but no matter where he scratched, he couldn’t relieve the sensation. 

“I can’t concentrate like this,” Lupin declared, shooing him out the door. “Go take yourself for a walk!”

Jigen wanted to growl and snap his teeth at Lupin, but instead stuck his hands in his pockets and ambled away down the cobbled streets. He wasn’t sulking, whatever Lupin said, he was just bored. They hadn’t had an actual job in months, and were living on crap food in a crap apartment in an even crappier part of town. While Lupin claimed to be planning their next big job, he was taking his sweet time about it. 

A drink. That would calm him down. He’d exhausted their home supply, and while a liquor store would be cheaper, he didn’t want to go back just yet. His feet corrected course and carried him to the nearest bar. 

It took Jigen’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dim, smoky interior, and when he did he realized he’d chosen the same bar as another sometimes-resident of Lyon: Inspector Zenigata. He almost spun around and walked right back out, but something compelled him instead to saunter over and take the bar stool next to him. Zenigata gave a start and stared at Jigen for a moment, then bristled and opened his mouth as if to start shouting about arresting him. Jigen cut him off with a raised hand. 

“I’m on vacation.”

Zenigata scowled, the wind knocked out of his sails. “Technically, I’m off duty,” he grumbled. “But with your outstanding warrants, I’d still have every right to cuff you now and take you to jail.”

“I’d be out in less than a day, but sure, waste both our time.” Jigen shrugged. “Look, I’m not going anywhere, so can it wait until I’ve had a drink?”

Narrowing his eyes, Zenigata looked as though he suspected a trick, but grudgingly he nodded. “One drink. Then I’ll take you in. No tricks!”

“This old dog ain’t got any you haven’t seen before,” Jigen said with a lopsided grin. Zenigata turned back to his glass, red and flustered. “Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask: how’re you doing lately, Pops?”

“That’s not your concern.” The gruff voice had softened somewhat, though. Jigen could see the opening, if he could just wriggle through it. Then, Zenigata went ahead and threw the door open wider. He looked at Jigen with those kind brown eyes with their ridiculous long lashes, and Jigen could almost imagine he really meant it when he asked: “How about you?”

Jigen shrugged eloquently. He had a moment to stall as he signaled the bartender to bring him one of whatever Zenigata was drinking. “Fine and dandy. Never better.”

Zenigata grunted and nodded. “Right. Same, then. Never better.”

They sipped their whiskey in silence that was almost companionable, almost comfortable, but for the tension of the things unspoken between them. It had been nearly a year since they’d been rescued from a human trafficking ring. A year since they’d been taken, caged, drugged, and tortured into behaving more like dogs than men. It had taken months after that for Zenigata to recover, with Jigen right alongside him. Once Zenigata had left the closed bubble of the thieves’ safe house, they had to pretend things were back to normal. That the natural cycle had been restored: cop chases thieves, cop fails to arrest thieves, thieves keep on thieving. They couldn’t acknowledge the bond they shared from that trauma or the resulting period of recovery. It was as though none of it had ever happened.

Except Jigen still woke up in a cold sweat, clutching his blanket around himself as though afraid someone would take it away. He still lashed out with growls and bared teeth when he argued with Lupin or Fujiko (or, though rarely, Goemon). He still caught himself staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as though surprised there was a man staring back at him, and not an animal.

“This is bullshit,” Jigen grumbled, tilting his glass so that the whiskey swirled and refracted the light. 

Zenigata sighed and bowed his head. “Do you want to go somewhere to talk?”

The offer surprised Jigen. He gave the inspector a wary smirk. “Like an interrogation room?”

“Like my place.” Zenigata flushed red again. “If you want.”

Jigen considered this for about three seconds before tossing back the rest of his whiskey. “All right, but you’re paying for my drink.”

To his astonishment, Zenigata not only did so but didn’t even sputter or complain about Jigen’s presumption. He shrugged into his trench coat, adjusted his hat, and led the way out into the streets.

Jigen squinted into the too-bright afternoon sunlight as they emerged. It was a beautiful day in Lyon, which made it more surreal as he trailed after Zenigata like a lost puppy. No, strike that. Not a puppy. A stray, mangy mutt. He could hide behind his suits and his hats and his gun, but Jigen was no longer wholly a man. Maybe he never would be, again. And the only other person in the world that he knew understood that was the man walking in front of him—a man who, on any other day, would be trying to arrest him.

Zenigata’s apartment was laughably close to Lupin’s. They’d probably crossed paths in the same grocery store, though Lupin usually went out in disguise. Leading the way up the stairs, Zenigata unlocked his door and gestured for Jigen to come inside. He did, crossing the threshold with caution and toeing off his expensive loafers. It wasn’t a fancy apartment, or even a particularly nice apartment, but it was reasonably clean and very _Zenigata_. He’d somehow gotten some tatami mats for the main room and a traditional low table, making it feel as though Jigen had just stepped out of France and into Japan. “Make yourself comfortable,” Zenigata grunted, going to the small kitchen and taking a bottle and glasses out of the cupboards. “I have sake, but no whiskey, if that’s all right.”

Jigen wanted to tell him not to go to the trouble, but he was already bringing it to the table and setting it down. “Sure. Thanks.”

Zenigata poured the sake, and they each took a sip before speaking again. “I found a support group. Some of the other… survivors. It’s online and you don’t have to use your real name.”

“Not really a support group kinda guy, Pops,” Jigen snorted.

“No, I suppose not. It’s helped, though. Knowing that I’m… that _we’re_ not alone.” Zenigata gave him a hard look. “You taught me that first, you know.”

“I did, huh?” Jigen sipped his sake, but it tasted weird when he was hoping for whiskey. He left most of it abandoned on the table. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that!” Now Zenigata looked properly riled. 

Jigen laughed and waved a hand at him in a ‘settle down’ gesture. “Don’t hurt yourself, Pops. I remember. Not something a guy can really forget, right? Even if he wants to.”

Zenigata must have detected the bitterness in his voice. “You’re not doing so well, are you?”

“What was your first hint?” There was no bite left in Jigen’s voice, though. He was just tired. 

“Jigen…” Zenigata shook his head, reached across the table to touch the back of Jigen’s hand. “Daisuke. You need to talk to someone.”

The use of his first name sent a shudder through Jigen. His hand twitched at the touch, too gentle, too kind, but he didn’t draw away. “I’m talking to you right now.”

“I mean, really talk. I know how hard it is. Men like us, we want to look indestructible in front of our enemies and friends alike. Can’t show any weakness. But it’s not weakness to want to heal from a wound instead of letting it fester.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.” Jigen smiled wryly, eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat. “The wound healed over into an ugly scar, and now it’s just part of me, like any other scar. 

“’Because sometimes when you get hurt too bad to heal easily, it leaves a scar.’” Zenigata sounded like he was reciting something someone had said to him. “’Scars can form on the mind and the soul just as much as the body. Even if they heal, you’re never the same person as before.’ You taught me that, too.”

“Wow, you remembered that, huh?” Jigen rested his cheek on his hand, elbow on the table. “Trust me, I’d love to be able to heal nice and tidy, not have a mark left. At this point, though, talking about it with a bunch of strangers is just picking open scar tissue and watching it bleed again.”

“And talking to me?”

Jigen searched for the right words. “With you, it’s more like… a predictable ache. Almost comforting. Like how my knees get before a storm comes in.”

Zenigata huffed a laugh through his nose. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

His hand remained resting on the back of Jigen’s. Jigen slowly turned his hand over, palm up, and grasped Zenigata’s hand. Zenigata squeezed back. “So,” said Jigen, “now what?”

“We’re not quite at that point,” mused Zenigata, “where you and I are both old men, able to just share a quiet drink as friends.”

“No,” agreed Jigen. His thumb moved idly across Zenigata’s palm. “We’re not that old yet, anyway. Getting there.”

The question still hung, unanswered, between them. _Now what?_

Zenigata surprised them both when he said, voice gruff yet quiet, “Come to bed with me.”

Jigen’s thumb rested over the pulse in Zenigata’s wrist. It was racing now. Tipping his hat back so that Zenigata could see the incredulity in his eyes, Jigen said, “You sure that’s what you want?” When Zenigata gave him a firm nod, Jigen gave a scoffing little huff of laughter and shook his head. Then, “All right.”

It felt surreal, Zenigata pulling him to his feet, leading him to the bedroom. They paused in the doorway and Zenigata kissed him as uncertainly as though it were their first time (it wasn’t) yet poignantly familiar. Jigen brought his hands up to Zenigata’s jaw and deepened the kiss, tasting the incongruous (and not entirely pleasant) blend of sake and whiskey on his breath. Their hands found buttons and ties, peeling away layers of clothes to be left carelessly on the floor. Zenigata reached up to remove his hat but Jigen stopped him. “Leave it on.”

Zenigata nodded. He hadn’t said a word since he’d extended the invitation, but Jigen wasn’t worried that he’d regressed back to that non-verbal state he was in after their rescue. Sometimes Zenigata was just a man of few words. Jigen could respect that and identify with it at times himself. Naked but for their hats, they moved to the bed, kissing and stroking over scarred, hairy bodies with hands that were more used to dealing out violence than pleasure. The hot afternoon sunlight slanted through the open windows, but the breeze felt good on their bare skin. Jigen was pleased to see that Zenigata had gained back the weight he’d lost last year, maybe even a little extra. He looked healthy, fit and strong, with a charming middle-aged softness to his belly. Jigen himself was still as rangy as a starving coyote, but that never seemed to change no matter how well he ate. 

“You look good,” Jigen said, groping Zenigata’s chest appreciatively. Zenigata rolled his eyes, one of his hands splayed across Jigen’s prominent ribs. 

“Are you eating enough?”

Jigen snorted. “Not really. Don’t worry about it.”

“Of course I worry.” Zenigata was frowning now. He looked up at Jigen and his eyes were too damn soft. “I worry about all of you. You and Lupin, especially.”

“That’s not very professional of you.” Jigen pushed Zenigata down onto the bed, swung a leg over his hips, straddling him. “Neither is this, though.”

Zenigata blushed. “I just do what I feel is right.”

“Is that so?” Jigen reached between them, gathering both of their cocks in one hand and giving them a slow stroke. The last time they’d done this, Jigen had let Zenigata fuck him, and it had been so excruciatingly tender Jigen had been terrified one or both of them would cry before the end. They hadn’t, but it had been a near thing. The crying had happened afterward. This time, Jigen hoped that they could just have a normal fuck, two men using each other for pleasure and passing comfort before going on their separate ways. “What feels right to you today, then, Pops?”

Grimacing at the nickname, Zenigata said definitively: “Not calling me that.” Jigen snickered. “I have a perfectly good name.”

“All right, _Koichi_ ,” Jigen relented. Zenigata had already called him Daisuke, after all. It was only fair. “How do you want me?”

Zenigata’s strong arms wrapped around Jigen’s thin torso, caging him in, but Jigen didn’t feel trapped. “I’d like to have you inside me, if you’re willing.”

Jigen’s brain nearly shorted out. Usually, the men he was with just wanted to fuck him, maybe push him around a little, maybe try to kill him later. The few times Jigen had been the ‘top’ had been with men closer to his own size, or—even more rarely—with women. Zenigata was easily twice his mass and maybe half a head taller. It wasn’t that Jigen didn’t _want_ to fuck Zenigata like that, it was just that he was having trouble wrapping his head around the logistics.

“Yeah, I could do that,” Jigen said finally, and some of the tension bled out of Zenigata, as though relieved. “Where’s your stuff?”

Zenigata found himself on his back, hips propped up on a few pillows, as Jigen fingered him open with all the expertise of someone used to getting himself ready the same way. He took things a little slower, though, not sure how much experience Zenigata actually had. He was certainly tight. Jigen bit his lip and made sure to add plenty of lube. By the time he was rolling the condom onto himself, Zenigata was panting and flushed beneath him, already hard and leaking against his belly. His hat had tumbled off at some point but still rested near him on the pillow.

“You just say ‘stop’ if you need me to stop,” Jigen reminded him. “If you start looking like you’re not okay, I’m gonna ask, too.”

“Okay,” Zenigata agreed. He gave Jigen’s hand a squeeze. “I trust you.”

That declaration was even more unexpected than the invitation to bed had been. Jigen blinked, then looked away with a wry smile. “Here we go, then.”

He eased inside, and the first breach into that tight heat made them both gasp. Slowly, Jigen rocked his hips, sliding in a little deeper each time, until he was buried to the base. Zenigata’s legs loosely bracketed Jigen’s narrow hips, and Jigen could feel them shaking. He rubbed at Zenigata’s calves in long, soothing strokes as he let his lover adjust. 

“I’m fine,” Zenigata assured him breathlessly. “M-move, already.”

He didn’t need to tell Jigen twice. While Jigen’s instincts were to set a fast, efficient pace, he knew that would do neither of them any favors, considering their history. He kept it slow but steady, only increasing speed gradually as they both fell into the familiar rhythms. Their bodies knew one another, opened to each other like old friends. Zenigata had his head turned aside, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open and gasping even as he tried to hide it behind his hand. Jigen pried it away and threaded their fingers together. The effect of the gesture on Zenigata was immediate: his whole posture relaxed and his brow uncreased.

“I’m with you,” Jigen said, though his hand was already saying it. “I’ve got you.”

Zenigata nodded, deep moans rolling up from him now that he was no longer trying to stifle them. Jigen could feel the sound vibrating through his whole body and his own voice rose in rough harmony. When it sounded as though each breath were being punched out of them, they lost track of who was making which noise, entering a liminal space where the boundaries of things like _self_ and _time_ were blurry. 

They came at the same time, or nearly enough that it didn’t matter, because when they returned to themselves they were panting and spent on the bed beside one another, hands still intertwined. Somehow, Jigen had tied off the condom, disposed of it, and wiped them both down with a spare t-shirt without loosening his grip. He would have been impressed with himself if he weren’t currently made of jelly.

Zenigata’s face came into focus slowly, glowing with the summer heat and a good orgasm. He was smiling in that soft way that Jigen had only seen directed once or twice at Lupin, before, and then when he began to recover from the trauma, Zenigata had turned it onto Jigen himself. Jigen’s breath caught at the realization that he’d missed seeing that smile. 

“I missed you,” Zenigata said, such an eerie echo of his own thoughts that Jigen could only laugh. “What? I did!”

“I believe you,” Jigen chuckled. “I just thought it was funny. You missing me.”

Zenigata huffed, puffing out his cheeks in a pout and rolling onto his back. “Is it really so strange?”

“Nah.” Jigen finally let go of his hand, but at the tiny sound of loss Zenigata made, he slung an arm over his chest and propped himself up on his elbows so that they were nose-to-nose. “I missed you, too.”

The kiss they shared lacked the urgency of before, but what it lacked in heated desire it made up for in the softer, slower warmth of affection and care. Whatever they had between them couldn’t be fully spoken into being, lest it burst, fragile as a soap bubble. Here, though, it thrummed bright and real beneath their skin. They would have to pack it away in the hidden corners of their hearts when Jigen inevitably took his leave. Reality was incongruent with their feelings. For now, they simply basked in it and each other. 

“It’s probably a bad idea for us to be seen together,” Zenigata sighed. “Otherwise, I’d invite you to come around more often. While we’re both in town, anyway.”

Jigen shrugged. “No reason we can’t meet up once in awhile, if we’re careful about it.”

“There are a _lot_ of reasons we can’t ‘meet up,’” argued Zenigata. “Not the least of which is that I’ve got active warrants for your arrest.”

“You’re not arresting me right now.” 

Zenigata blushed. “Seems rude, at the very least, to arrest someone when you’re having post-coital snuggles.”

Jigen laughed at that, long and loud, and Zenigata eventually joined in. When they finished, they kissed again, and tucked themselves together more comfortably for said snuggles. The restlessness Jigen had felt before had all but bled out of him, leaving him calmer and more stable than when he’d left the house. Running into Zenigata had ironically been good for him. 

Reaching over to Zenigata’s fallen hat, Jigen plopped it back onto the inspector’s head at a jaunty angle. His own hat had weathered their rigorous activities and done an admirable job staying put. Jigen’s hat had always been important to him, but now it seemed extra important to see Zenigata in his, too. It was that reminder they shared, that they were nobody’s pets. They were their own men.

“Let’s agree to meet at least once a year, then,” Jigen compromised. They’d see each other more often than that, on the job, but this was an invitation for something different. Something more like what they had today, hopefully. “You don’t gotta put it in your planner or anything, but if an opportunity arises… maybe while we’re abroad on a job, and you happen to be there, and we happen to have some downtime…”

“And we happen to meet in the same bar,” Zenigata continued slowly, catching on to the idea. “Purely by coincidence, of course.”

“Of course,” Jigen agreed easily. “And if I happened to come up to your hotel room for a friendly chat, just to check up on you, out of concern…”

Zenigata chuckled. “All right. You’ve convinced me. I still won’t be able to give you any preferential treatment, you understand. Out there, we’ll still be playing cops and robbers. But in those situations… we could have another sort of truce.”

“That seems more than fair.” Jigen held out a hand, and Zenigata shook it. 

The handshake lingered, giving Zenigata the chance to pull Jigen’s hand to his mouth, kissing the backs of his knobbly knuckles. He held Jigen’s gaze, a little uncertain, a little hopeful. “Can you stay?”

Jigen looked at the clock. Lupin wouldn’t be expecting him back until later that night, most likely. “I got nowhere I’d rather be,” he said honestly. “So, if you’ll have me…”

“Yes,” came the immediate answer. Zenigata was flushed red, but he smiled. “Stay awhile. I would… I’d like that.”

Nodding, Jigen returned to Zenigata’s arms, and there he stayed until the summer heat faded into a cool, sweet-smelling night. 

…

_end_


End file.
